


Inseparable

by agentwashingtin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentwashingtin/pseuds/agentwashingtin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t remember when she was born; that’s part of being a twin you suppose. You don’t remember her first word or her first steps, because you were learning yours at the same time. You were too young to remember the early years you spent with her, even if you never left her side.</p><p>But, of course, your first memory is of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inseparable

For your third birthday, your father builds you a swing set. The metal is brand new and bright red, and the shine immediately draws your attention. You waddle over to the swing and point at it expectantly. Your father smiles and walks over, helping you into the swing while your mother mans the camera, snapping pictures in quick succession.

Little giggles escape your throat as your father pushes you gently. You're barely moving, but you still can't help but smile brightly at the light touches on your back and way your feet swish over the grass. The summer sun illuminates your backyard as it hovers over your house. The warm light makes you sleepy, and you would like nothing more than to nap in it, but the excitement from your new present keeps you awake. You kick your feet and your parents laugh.

You frown when you notice she's not there.

Your tiny hands grip the rope of the swing as you twist to look at your father. He seems to recognize the look on your face and turns, spotting your sister playing in the grass with a set of blocks. She stacks them too high and they topple over, but she stubbornly tries again and again.

Your father calls to her and she looks up, light hair bouncing in the pigtails your mother loved on her. She clutches a block in one hand, picking at the grass with the other. Her head tilts as she watches your father over your shoulder. Your father makes a waving motion with his hand and she slowly stands, dropping the block and making her way over to the swing set. Your mother abandons the camera to join your father and she stands behind the other swing, helping your sister onto it.

You smile, excited that she gets to try out the swings too. Your sister clenches the rope tightly in her fists, staring straight at the ground. She bites her bottom lip as your mother begins pushing her, and you can see her eyes glisten.

You say her name softly and she looks up. Her knuckles are white against the rope. You let go of your swing with one hand and hold it out to her. She looks at it warily, before slowly letting go of the rope and grasping your hand. You smile brightly. You don't care that your father won't push you as high now that you let go. She finally returns your smile.

That's all that matters to you.

* * *

You're ten when your father calls you out of school for the first time.

You meet your sister in front of the office. She's in a different fourth grade class than you, and you normally don't get to see her during the school day. Both of you are confused but excited all the same. Neither of you are sure why your father took you out of school.

You hold open the door for her and she runs in, jumping into your father's arms. She has her face in his chest, so she doesn't see the way your father's eyes are rimmed in red. But you do.

The door clicks shut behind you and the office falls silent, save for your sister's excited chattering. Finally, she looks up and notices the same thing you did.

"Daddy, have you been crying?"

You're ten when you find out your mother is dead.

* * *

When you're seventeen, you notice that your sister is falling behind in class.

You sit on the bar stool in your kitchen, clutching the crumpled paper in your hands. You had found the thick, official-looking parchment in the trashcan when you got home from school. Normally, you wouldn't have paid any attention to it, except that you had an identical one in your backpack.

Instead of the line of As and Bs you were used to seeing in association with your sister's name, a collection of Cs and Ds were printed down the document. You drop the grade card to the counter top, resting your forearms on the cool surface. Your bag suddenly feels heavier on your back, and you let it fall to the ground. You wonder how long its been since your sister stopped caring about school.

Sighing, you smooth out the paper and drop it into your bag, then make your way up the stairs. Her door is closed, and you stare at the stickers adorning it before knocking lightly. She doesn't answer, but you can hear music coming from inside.

The knob twists easily under your hand, and you're surprised that the door wasn't locked.

"Go away."

You stare at the back of her head. She'd recently cut most of her hair off and dyed the rest. Your feathery, white-blond hair no longer matches hers. Your chest aches.

She turns and you're a little relieved that your eyes are still the same.

"Are you deaf?" she snaps. "Get out."

You wince and step into the room despite her protests. She hadn't turned any of her numerous lamps on, but you can still see the bottle in her hands glisten with the weak light of the sun.

"Have you been drinking?" you ask as you sit next to her.

She snorts and takes a swig from the bottle. You take that as her answer.

"You know you shouldn't-"

"Don't-" she warns. "I'm not in the mood."

You reach out and she jerks away. Your hand stills, and you wait for her to relax before you go for the bottle again. This time she lets you take it from her. You set it on the nightstand just out of her reach; you'll pour it down the drain later.

Sighing, you scoot back until you hit the headrest. Then you grab her and pull her towards you.

"Hey-" she protests, batting at your hands. You avoid them and adjust the two of you so that one of your arms is around her waist, and her head is on your chest.

"Relax, kiddo," you whisper.

She scoffs, but doesn't say anything. You think she's going to pull away, but then she winds her arms around you and presses her face into your chest.

"Thanks," she says quietly.

You kiss her hair lightly and stay there until she falls asleep.

* * *

She doesn't take it well when you tell her you're enlisting.

You can't remember a time when you've yelled at her before, but soon both your voices are raised and she's spouting every swear under the sun at you. You match her pitch, warning her not to even consider following you. She doesn't listen, and soon she's storming out of your apartment, red faced and temper at an all time high.

You sink to the floor with a groan. You knew how she would react, but you couldn't leave without telling her. You'd rather have her mad at you than not knowing where you are.

It doesn't surprise you in the least when she shows up on the day you're shipping out with a bag of her own.

* * *

"So we all get new names then."

You turn and see your sister behind you, wearing sweat pants and a dark purple tank top. Her dog tags are tucked beneath her shirt and her hair is in her eyes, but you resist the urge to tell her to get it cut.

You nod. "State names, I guess. What did you get?"

"South Dakota," she answers. "Kind of a mouthful, so I'm thinking I'll just go by South or something. Can't wait to see who got the other Dakota. I'm sure we'll be paired up  _all_  the time." She rolls her eyes. "What about you?"

You swallow. You try and think of anything to say that won't upset her.

Her eyes narrow. She knows you too well. "Wait, did you-?"

You swallow again. "I got North Dakota."

Her eyes flash. "I can't fucking  _believe_  it!"

You grab her arm. "Calm down. It's not a big deal."

She jerks out of your grip. "It is a big deal! They must think they're  _so_  clever. Give the twins similar state names! How fucking original," she seethes. "What's next? I bet you're going to tell me you've got purple armor too."

You open your mouth. "Well..."

"Ugh!" she snaps in disgust. She spins around and stalks down the hall.

"Wait!" you call after her, starting to follow.

"Don't worry," she yells back. "I'm not running off to complain. Unlike what you think, I'm not a child, Agent North."

You freeze. She turns the corner and disappears out of view. The name sounded odd coming from her mouth. Cold.

You suppose you'd better get used to it.

* * *

After the MOI crashes, you think she'll take off. But she doesn't.

"Nothing like being on the run with my big bro," she says, bumping your shoulder. Your armor clinks together and you wonder how long it's been since you've seen each other outside of the metal plating.

You roll your eyes. "We're not exactly in the position for jokes, South. Being involved with the Project put a lot of targets on our backs."

"Oh, come on," she laughs. "Lighten up. We'll be fine as long as we stick together."

You bite your lip, glad she can't see your face behind your helmet.

_North?_

You blink.  _Yes, Theta?_

_Are we really in danger?_

You can picture the pink AI. He's not showing himself to South, but you can imagine him nervously kicking his foot into the ground, or maybe even playing with the wheels on his skateboard, just by the tone of his voice.

You sigh quietly.  _We'll be fine, Theta. We're okay._

 _Oh, okay._  Theta is quiet for a moment.  _Thanks, North._

_No problem, buddy._

You feel Theta fade back until he's just on the edge of your consciousness and you sigh. You wonder if you should have left him behind and then dismiss the thought quickly. You couldn't have left him to the Project and the Director.

You glance at South out of the corner of your eye and sigh again. You'd been caring for her your whole life. What was one more person to watch out for?

* * *

"Damn it, South. Set your trackers," you growl.

You can see her crouched behind a jagged piece of concrete. Your armor sticks out against the white and gray exterior of the structure around you, and for once you wish you'd been assigned the Active Camo unit.

"I know, North," she snaps back.

"This thing is cloaked. I can't get a lock on it." You peer into the sight of your sniper. Theta is broadcasting nervously in the back of your mind, but you tune him out for the time being. "Keep an eye on your motion trackers."

"I  _know_ , North," South growls.

You're about to reply when you see movement on her right. "South, move!"

She vaults over her cover without a thought, touching down as a large, and wickedly sharp, knife arcs through the air and skids against the concrete, sending up a shower of sparks.

"What the hell is it?!" she cries, targeting it with her rifle.

You don't answer. You both know what it is; the helmet alone gives it away.

You leap down from your perch. It's useless to try and snipe something invisible, and you figure you'd be more help on the ground.

South stands behind a dead tree, rifle tracking the empty air as you both scan the area. The thing has disappeared for now, but you know it's still there, hiding where you can't see.   
  
You crouch, drawing up your sniper rifle and peering over the terrain. You swear in agitation, fingers itching to run through your hair. There was no sign of it anywhere.

You take a cautious step forward, and tell South to watch your back. She promises, and you make your way farther out into the open air.

Theta yells in your ear and you turn just in time for that unforgettable blade to come slicing down across your stomach. The blade cuts right between the plates of your armor. You stagger. Both South and Theta are yelling now, but you tune them out and raise your rifle, firing one shot. The thing grunts and cuts down at you again. This time you fall, dropping your rifle and clutching your stomach with one arm. The wound is wide and deep. You can feel yourself bleeding out. You know there's nothing between your insides and the open air except your arm.

You know you're dying.

"South!" you yell. The thing has disappeared again. "Hurry, grab Theta and run!"

South rushes over. You can't see her face. Her hands are shaking slightly and you want to take them. You think back to the swing set you had as kids. You know she's scared. Her hands always shake when she's scared.

You tell Theta to prepare to go into storage. You think Theta may be crying, but you can't tell.

"North," Theta whispers. "North. I'm scared."

"It's okay, buddy. South will take care of you," you reassure him. "Trust me, you'll be okay."

Your cough interrupts his frantic murmurings. You fall back, clutching your stomach with a groan, blood spilling over your arm. Your legs have started to go numb.

"North," South whispers. You can't move. You can't reach out to her.

"Just go," you gasp. Blood leaks past your lips but you don't let South know. You don't want her to worry.

"I can't," she replies. Her voice is steady, but her hands still shake.

"What?"

She takes a step back and your eyes narrow in confusion. Your mind races. Why isn't she taking Theta? Why isn't she running?

A shadow falls over your body and suddenly you understand.

The thing growls and takes a step towards her. She steps back and holds up a hand. It lowers its weapon.

"He has his AI and his equipment. Let me go," she says lowly. Your heart clenches tightly, and you can't think of anything to say.

It growls again, but doesn't try to move towards her. She looks down at you, but you've started to lose consciousness and can't meet her gaze. She clenches her fists and turns her back on you.

Theta is panicking. You can hear him in your head, but for once you can't comfort him. You can't lie to him.

The thing - The Meta - raises his weapon.

"I love you, kiddo," you whisper. You know she hears it.

The Meta snarls and thrusts the weapon down.

The last thing you hear is South scream.

You wonder if your death saved her.

You hope it did.


End file.
